


Leave at your own chosen speed

by heydoeydoey



Series: losing myself here lately [5]
Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode 3x16 "No Way Out", M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22621795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heydoeydoey/pseuds/heydoeydoey
Summary: This is the end; the unstoppable force finally met the immovable object, and everything is imploding.
Relationships: Mike Ross/Harvey Specter
Series: losing myself here lately [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/36602
Comments: 5
Kudos: 68





	Leave at your own chosen speed

**Author's Note:**

> GUYS. I'm sorry. It's been SO LONG. I started writing this series 8 years ago, and then I stopped watching Suits, but now that I'm undertaking The Great WIP Project of 2020, I knew this series deserved a finale. I loved writing this little series so much, and I hope you all enjoy its last installment (several years overdue).  
> Title is borrowed from Bob Dylan's "It Ain't Me, Babe".

It goes to hell so quickly.

(That’s a lie. It’s been going to hell in pieces for months. They’ve been on borrowed time since the moment Mike burst into his interviews, and it’s been fast-expiring since Darby. Or maybe since Hardman.)

But when he walks into the U.S. Attorney’s interrogation room and sees the look on Mike’s face—half-ill, half-determined—he knows it’s over. It makes him want to hit something, which is mostly why he throws the chair at the camera, because the reckless, gambling side of him doesn’t give a fuck if they have him on tape admitting to fraud, not if Mike’s going to end up in prison anyway. 

Suddenly, it all seems like such a _waste_. What was the point of any of it if Mike leaves? 

Later, after Louis works whatever voodoo he does on Harold and they ride silently back to Pearson Specter, he almost convinces himself Mike will stay. They’re out of the woods again, enough that they have some breathing room, and Mike loves being a lawyer. It might be enough to keep him longer.

(That’s a lie too. After today, there’s literally no reason Mike should want to stay with the firm, and if it were anyone else Harvey would call him an idiot for even considering it. Still, he hopes.)

As soon as Mike thanks him and starts talking about crossed lines, Harvey knows what’s coming. When Mike asks his permission to leave, Harvey offers a handshake because he can’t trust his voice, not around the lump in his throat at the thought of coming in every day to an office where Mike isn’t.

“When’s your last day?” He asks, the words out of his mouth before he really thinks about what he’s saying. “I want to take you to dinner.”

Mike looks surprised. “Don’t know yet. But dinner sounds good.”

They walk out of the office together, and ride the elevator silently down to the lobby. 

“Want a ride?” Harvey offers. “Ray’s waiting.”

Mike shakes his head. “I think I’ll walk tonight.”

There’s something so final about turning their separate ways on the sidewalk, even though he knows he’ll see Mike tomorrow, and every day for the rest of his notice period. This is the end; the unstoppable force finally met the immovable object, and everything is imploding.

Mike spends three more weeks at Pearson Specter, finishing up whatever open cases Harvey can throw at him and trying to avoid the _but why are you leaving_ question. It hasn’t escaped anyone’s notice that Mike eats, sleeps and breathes the law, and as the news spreads that he’s leaving, so do the rumors. 

“They think you were screwing and now you’ve split and Mike can’t bear to stay.” Donna announces over the intercom one afternoon after a reconnaissance trip to the ladies’ room.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“You haven’t been on a date in eight months. What do you expect people to think?”

“ _Definitely_ that I’m sleeping with my associate.” 

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.” Donna shoots back. “Oh, speak of the devil.”

Mike rounds the corner and pushes open Harvey’s office door. “Should we have a public break-up in the cafeteria?” He grins.

Harvey rolls his eyes, “Let’s save it for the prom. Much more dramatic.”

“It’s not like I’ve offered up any good reasons for leaving. Obviously they’re going to speculate. It will all be over tomorrow anyway.”

Harvey refuses to be wounded by Mike’s cheery tone. “The speculation won’t end when you leave.”

“I’d rather them come up with some stupid rumor than guess anything near the truth. But if it bothers you, I can give them something to shut them up.”

“It doesn’t bother me.”

Mike looks skeptical, but Harvey isn’t lying. Mike is right; he’d rather the whole office gossip that they had some torrid affair than figure out that Mike is a fraud. 

“Are we still on for dinner tonight?” Mike asks.

“Of course. We can’t let you leave without marking the occasion.”

“End of an era,” Mike says, looking almost miserable for a split-second. Maybe his poker face is better than Harvey thought. 

“Eighteen months hardly constitutes an era.” Harvey says dryly, but he knows what Mike means. 

They’re on their way to the elevators, on time to make their reservation, when Jessica stops them in the hallway, says she needs their help on a merger, now, before Mike leaves. She winks at Harvey like she’s doing him a favor, giving them a victory lap or something, and Harvey could stab her in the eye with a pen. 

It’s not like he had some grand gesture planned. But he sure as hell didn’t want to spend Mike’s last night in his office surrounded by paperwork. Mike didn’t either, Harvey can tell from the way his smile freezes on his face after Jessica walks away.

“Rain check on dinner, I guess.” He says, as they turn back towards Harvey’s office. Donna has already left for the evening, and Harvey is grateful because he doesn’t have the energy to bicker with her. He feels flat, deflated, like one of the basketballs on his windowsill. It’s neither a familiar nor a comfortable feeling.

But maybe it’s fitting to end this thing the way it began, with another late night in Harvey’s office, Mike making himself comfortable on the couch and chewing absently on a highlighter cap while he proofs, Harvey sitting at his desk making phone calls and tying loose ends. 

It’s nearly midnight when they finish, and had they made their reservation they’d be finishing dessert and considering another drink now. 

“I’m starving,” Mike groans. “Let’s order a pizza and go back to my place.”

“Okay.” Harvey agrees. They ordered in Thai but that was hours ago and he doesn’t want to go back to his empty apartment just yet.

He sent Ray home around nine, so Mike hails a cab for the short ride back to his building.

“For the record,” Harvey says, “this wasn’t how I wanted to spend tonight.”

“Me either,” Mike agrees. “I was envisioning some quality wining and dining. You know, since you work for me now.”

Harvey snorts. “Last I checked, I work for your employer.”

“What does that make us, then?”

“Equals,” Harvey says, surprised how easy it is to admit it. 

“Weird,” Mike says. “That’s gonna take some getting used to.”

The last time Harvey was in Mike’s apartment, he’d been helping him move. He’s pleased to see Mike replaced his ratty couch with a nice, saddle brown leather sectional that looks like it belongs to a grownup instead of in a frat house.

“Nice couch,” he says, and Mike grins.

He’s less pleased to see Mike _actually_ painted the kitchen green.

“I thought this was just a bit you were doing,” he says, standing in the kitchen and squinting at the walls. Admittedly, it’s not so bad after a few minutes, once his eyes adjust. 

“No you didn’t,” Mike rolls his eyes. He’s shrugged out of his jacket and rolled his sleeves up. Harvey can’t help noticing that he looks...better. Clearer than he has in a while. Grief is like that, it makes things seem fuzzy and indistinct and unimportant. 

“Nobody will ever buy this apartment with a battery acid kitchen.”

“Excuse you, it’s Citronella. And I’m not planning on selling anytime soon.”

The pizza arrives and they eat it standing at the counter, too hungry to bother with plates. 

“I’m feeling a little déjà vu here. Should we watch The Breakfast Club to really come full circle?”

That shouldn’t be what does it. It’s not a particularly funny joke, or especially clever, but Mike is grinning at him, carefree and lighter than he’s been in a year, and the last piece of Harvey’s resolve breaks. He moves without thinking about it, reaching for Mike and reeling him in by his stupid skinny tie. Mike’s breath hitches, and his eyebrows climb in surprise, but he’s reaching for Harvey too, his hands curling around Harvey’s hips. 

Mike leans up, just enough, and when Harvey kisses him it’s soft and surprisingly sweet. 

Harvey’s spent so long resisting this, certain that to give in would bring nothing but catastrophe. It should _feel_ catastrophic to let go of that, like a bomb going off or a car crash you can’t look away from. Instead, kissing Mike in his ugly kitchen, something settles in Harvey, quiets the gnawing, gaping emptiness he’s lived with for so long. 

When they separate, several breathless minutes later, Mike’s cheeks are flushed pink and his eyes are bright. 

“If I had known quitting was all it would take to get you to kiss me, I would’ve done it months ago,” Mike jokes. 

“Liar,” Harvey snorts. He still has hold of Mike’s tie, and he releases it, his fingers smoothing out the wrinkles almost absentmindedly. Mike’s wanted this for months, and somehow that makes it easier to admit he has too. “I couldn’t do this when you still worked for me.”

“I know, Harvey.” Mike says. “Equals, I get it.”

And Harvey knows he does, because Mike’s been able to see through him all along, from the very first time they met. 

“C’mere,” Mike says, sliding his arms around Harvey’s waist and tugging him closer. Harvey relaxes against Mike, lets the last of the tension he’s been carrying drain out of him. He knows that there is more to say, but for once there’s no deadline looming, no wolf at their heels, no threat coming up behind them. Time has always been a luxury and now they’re spoiled for it. Everything else but _this_ can wait. 

“You know,” Mike says, “if you like the new couch, I think you’re _really_ going to like the new bed.”

Harvey laughs.“Then you’d better lead the way, rookie.”


End file.
